


The Golden Youth's Tale

by Devilc



Category: The Road Warrior
Genre: Alternate Reality, D/s, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-07
Updated: 2010-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-05 23:15:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devilc/pseuds/Devilc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How The Golden Youth ended up on the back of Wez's bike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Golden Youth's Tale

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion to [Wez's Tale](http://archiveofourown.org/works/47085) which I suggest you read first to get the fullest understanding of the story.

_"...but I never thought of that until I saw him chained to the bright chrome of another's rig, looking like a sad angel and knew I had to have him. Took him right then into some bushes and had what I needed from him."_

\--From Wez's Tale--

* * *

I remember sitting chained to the roll cage of my owner's wheels, on display. His property. I could have a new owner before the day was out, depended if he found something he needed more than he liked using me. I saw the man skulk by. Coal black hair with a stare like a blue eyed hawk. Graceful and powerful, a warrior. The kind of man I'll never be. He walked over and studied me with naked interest for several minutes before my owner threatened to kill him and chased him away. He left in a thundercloud of rage, not like a cur with its tail between its legs. I wished I belonged to a man as beautiful and powerful as him.

I hate the dust and heat of these barter gatherings, so I dozed off, and dreamt of a griffin. (I remember griffins from the stories that my mother used to tell, before I was taken from her and sold.) We flew across the endless red earth and scrub of the outback, and I opened my mouth and whooped with joy. I woke to a war cry. The man had returned! He fought with my owner! And not a brawl, either. The most mean spirited brawl has no comparision to a fight between two men determined to see the other dead. When the dust had settled, the man, the griffin from my dreams, stood, rust colored from the dirt, wiping blood from his nose. My owner lay on the ground, a knife between his ribs, his blood redder than the red earth. The others looked on, but nobody said anything as my griffin warrior helped himself to the tools and weapons from the body on the ground, siphoned gas from the tank, then reached over and unlocked me.

Saying nothing, he grabbed the chain to my collar and tugged. I climbed down, cramped muscles screaming, deathly afraid, but knowing somehow that the griffin warrior would not kill me. There was something mixed in with the naked lust in his eyes, something delighted, something almost childlike in its wonder. He said nothing and without a backwards glance, hauled me toward the ravine.

I hissed in pain as the thorns scratched me. Heedless of my pain, of my cuts and scratches, he shoved me to the ground. And even though I knew how this was going to end the minute he yanked me from my cage, I screamed in fear  or tried to scream. All that emerged were some strangled, broken squawks  even when I want to scream, I can't. I struggled and thrashed as he ripped off the loin cloth I wore, then he stepped on me, pinning my hip to the ground beneath his massive steel toed boot. His lapis blue eyes bored into mine; at the edge of my vision I saw him unlace his codpiece and pull out a massive, yet still soft, cock.

His piss felt scaldlingly hot as he hosed me down with it, spraying it all over. I calmed down and lay still, accepting. This wasn't something cheap or meant to shame me. I just knew by the look in his eye that he was marking me, scenting me, putting his claim on me. Before I finished wiping his piss off of my face, he knelt, ripping my legs apart, sniffing at my sex. I felt his warm, moist, tongue dabbing it, tasting. He gently pushed back my foreskin and took a few more swipes with his tongue. He stopped, savoring the taste, rolling it through his mouth, deep in thought. He licked his finger and shoved it rudely into me. I gasped with the pain of the sudden intrusion and lay there as he slowly worked it in and out. I knew what was coming next, had known it often since they took me from my mother. I lay quiet and hoped my griffin warrior would be quick and not leave me too sore to walk.

My heart nearly exploded with shock as he took me fully into his mouth and sucked me ravenously, swallowing me like a man who has gone without food for too long. No one had ever done this to me, though I had been made to do it many many times. In a distant corner of my mind, I heard my self making those barking, mewling noises that I hated so much, but I felt too good to care. My whole world shrank to my hard cock in my griffin warrior's mouth, the hasp of his tongue and the suction of his cheeks. Then I was shooting, shooting, shooting into his mouth and he swallowed it like it was something delicious, not something salty and bitter. In my mind's eye I could see us, the griffin and a winged Icarius, soaring over the plains. I was too limp with pleasure to really care when he hooked my legs over his shoulders. I felt his hardness probing at my portal and in a burst of pain, he impaled me. It felt like an iron rod as he drove it into me again and again. I lay silent and took it, panting away the burning sensation. With a roar he drove into me and stiffened. He hung there, panting for a few moments, then withdrew. It was over then. He had marked me with his scent both inside and out. I lay there, watching him lace his sex back into its leather sheath while his seed leaked out of me.

His eyes met mine with a level stare. "Get up."

I got up and reached for my loin cloth, I could feel his come dribble down my leg.

"No." Pause. "We'll get you something better to wear. I don't want you wearing that. You got it from **him**. It smells of **him**." He had a hoarse, gritty voice.

He turned and tugged the chain to lead me away. I followed, my head held high, proud to be with my griffin warrior, this man who would rather I be naked then wear clothes not from him.

"What's your name?" he called over his shoulder. When I did not answer he turned and scowled at me until I indicated that I could not speak. "You can't speak then?"

I nodded.

He gently stroked my chin and cheeks, before pulling me close and kissing my forehead. His eyes gleamed with feral joy. I could feel the same emotion shining in my eyes. He led me naked through the rest of them, the look in his eyes enough to make them keep their distance. He climbed aboard his motorcycle and I mounted behind him, and together we flew across the red earth of the Outback.


End file.
